


Love A Place The Less

by HawthornSparks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen, HP: EWE, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3405509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthornSparks/pseuds/HawthornSparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One does not love a place the less for having suffered in it, unless it has been all suffering, nothing but suffering.<br/>-Jane Austen, novelist (1775-1817)</p><p>A revisit to familiar grounds brings more than just childhood memories for Draco Malfoy. Conversation, realisation, and perhaps a little hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love A Place The Less

 

** One does not love a place the less for having suffered in it, unless it has been all suffering, nothing but suffering. **

-Jane Austen, novelist (1775-1817)

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you’re ok to do this?”

Draco Malfoy took a deep breath to steady his nerves as he looked up at the great, looming gates, an entrance to the place he had once called home.

“Malfoy? _Malfoy?_ ”

“Yes, Potter, I’m sure.”

He raised his wand above his head in an unusual salute that had been familiar to him throughout his youth.

The gates gradually creaked open, rust and dirt built up from years of neglect falling to the ground around them.

Draco exhaled slowly, letting out a breath he had not realised he’d been holding, a small and unexpected surge of relief filtering through him.

“Ok team, let’s move in.” Potter called to his merry band of wand-wavers. Draco had never expected that the next time he would visit his childhood home, it would be on the terms of the Ministry and old Scarhead himself.

The Aurors rushed around him, taking tentative steps and testing wards, spreading out charms across the grounds.

“Malfoy, the team will take their time in securing the whole estate. We’ll start with the East Wing and move through the West. Feel free to do what you need to do. I’ll find you when we’re ready.”

Draco nodded. He was grateful to be given time to process this. A lump formed in his throat that had nothing to do with Potter’s words as he took a hesitant step into the grounds.

He set off down the long gravel pathway towards the crumbling Manor. He doubted there was any need to wait for the Aurors to sweep the whole building before setting foot inside. He wouldn’t have put it above Lucius to have trapped and warded the whole place, but he highly doubted anyone of Malfoy blood would be harmed by such enchantments.

He reached the top of the entrance steps and placed a hand on the once grand door. For a fleeting moment he swore he could feel the house’s weary energy, ever-present but weather-worn and tired.

He shook his head, trying to recover from an impending bout of sentimentality, and pulled hard on the door handles.

With a creak and a groan they gave way. He knew they wouldn’t have been locked, not after all this time. His parents had hardly been given a chance to set foot inside the building before being carted off for questioning and a trial.

He was glad, he supposed, that his mother hadn’t chosen to return to the Manor after her trial. He too had felt the same. Neither wanted to live with the constant reminder, forever having to avoid particular rooms and hallways.

He supposed he would never truly forgive himself, for all that he had seen during the War. It had a felt like a game to begin with, the power and superiority he had been afforded at such a young age. A pawn in a sick man’s sport, he had quickly learned, was what he had truly been.

In the years after the war, after much toil, abuse and closed doors in his face, he had slowly begun to regain a life for himself. With his Mark, he knew he would be looked down upon for the rest of his days, treated as inferior and low class as he had once treated others. But that wouldn’t stop him trying.

He trailed his hand along the banister as he made his way up the great staircase dominating the foyer, the smoothness of the marble a taunting reminder of the former grandeur of the place.

Twisting and turning down the many hallways, he caught glimpses of rooms he used to recognise. His parents bedroom, the lounge where he had spent many summers laying around and laughing with his school friends, his mother’s favourite sunroom. All had been ransacked and searched from top to bottom; whether down to Aurors or looters he couldn’t say.

He knew where his feet were taking him, although his heart was torn between wanting to see and forever remaining ignorant.

This corridor was dustier than all the others had been, his footsteps sending up small clouds as he took hesitant steps. Light barely filtered in from the window at the end of the corridor, thick with grime yet still in one piece. Faded marks on the walls seemed to glow in the musky darkness where portraits had been removed and confiscated, most likely destroyed or sitting in the Ministry’s depths nowadays.

The familiar double doors remained standing, paint slightly peeling. He had no doubts that the inside would have been ransacked by now.

Draco’s hands rested lightly on the ornate handles, still in two minds as to whether or not he really wanted to do this.

A rumble echoed through the walls of the old building. Draco could only assume Potter’s Aurors had found something that warranted immediate destruction, although he couldn’t say what that might be.

Draco had known very little about what happened at Malfoy Manor through the Dark Lord’s years here. He had always been kept at arms length, used as an errand boy mostly and an example for Lucius’ faults where necessary.

With a deep breath to still his trembling hands, Draco pushed open the doors and stepped into his childhood bedroom.

Slytherin house and Quidditch team decorations and posters hung across the large room in swathes, all peeling, rotting and faded. The old four-poster slanting to the side, the frame completely decayed in places. The musky scent of mildew and dust choked him as he took a step in, the room in semi-darkness much as the hall way was but for one pane smashed away. Through the gap he could see a small batch of Aurors still working their way across the grounds, as the wind whistled in through the empty frame.

He stepped towards the towering bookshelves set against a wall, two tipped over and pulled apart, but one remaining upright, looming over the room. Running his fingers over the dusty tomes stacked up, he could make out a few titles through the grim: _Quidditch Through The Ages_ , a copy of _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland_ with the cover hanging off, a well-thumbed _Hogwarts: A History_ , and a barely recognisable _Charm Your Own Cheese_.

He reached up and pulled out a cobwebbed copy of _A Guide To Advanced Occlumency_ , prying open the first few pages to reveal a missing section in the centre of the book. With a reluctant smile he scooped up the small practice Snitch nestled inside: a souvenir of his first catch as a boy. He pocketed it, grateful looters had at least left this well alone.

Stepping back and scanning the room, he could pick out a few marks of the young boy he once was. An array of dragon figurines, his old Slytherin tie (which also went into his pocket) and with a _lumos_ cast, he found his old Nimbus 2001 at the back of his wardrobe - the twigs bent and broken, and handle scratched in such a way that no amount of buffing with Fleetwood’s High-Finish Handle Polish could rectify. With a sigh, he let it drop back in amongst his old robes, now moth-eaten and mildewy.

Hearing footsteps in the hall, Draco made his way back to the window to watch a team carrying cloth-covered artefacts out to the gate.

One of the doors creaked open behind him and footsteps padded into the room.

“All done, Potter. Your team can ransack the rest of this shite now.”

“Actually, I don’t think there’s much else that needs taking away. We’re just interested in securing the estate now.” A female voice replied.

Draco glanced back, nodding in acknowledgement of her presence.

“You know,” she continued, “It won’t be long before it’s habitable again. The Ministry would be willing to assist in renovations, I can make sure of that.”

His snort of derision spoke volumes. “Granger, I think we’re both well aware that when I walk out of the gates today, I won’t be coming back again.”

She nodded in understanding. Even in her capacity within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hermione struggled at times with her visits to this building.

“Have you thought about future plans for it? It’s your name on the property now, after all.”

“Strip it all bare, knock it down, divide the land and auction it off. I want nothing more to do with it.”

“But Malfoy, there’s so much opportunity here!” Hermione rushed out, her plan already fully formed. “You could do so much, or donate it to someone who could. Of course, I agree it would need bulldozing and building back up again, but the land here is incredible and rife with potential!”

He smirked, her busy-body attitude and interference in his decision-making now familiar after all the time he’d spent connected with the Ministry.

“So you have it.”

“Oh be serious, Malfoy.”

“If you’ve got a plan for it, why not give it a go?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. Come on Granger, you’re the know-it-all with the big ideas. Why back down now?”

She whirled on him. “ _Because_ , Draco Malfoy, this is _your_ responsibility and it’s time for you to take charge of it. You’ve hidden away from it for far too long.” He could feel the static tension radiating from her. “You have a prime opportunity to do some good in the eyes of society, and all you want to do is make a quick Galleon from it!”

“Granger, that’s not what I-”

“No! You could do so much here! You have the resources, the time. And with the right backing and partnership, this could be something good, something brilliant!”

“Granger -”

“Just think about it.” She cast an arm across the room. “This could be an extension of our education system, perhaps a pre-school for Hogwarts. Or a home for students who don’t have anywhere to go in the school holiday, like a summer home. You know, it’s widely thought that Voldemort would have turned out entirely differently had he been raised with love and affection - perhaps an orphanage or care home of some kind? I’m sure the Ministry would be interested in the land for other purposes, of course, but I really feel that such goodness would come from turning this place into something for the good of the people, people without options or somewhere to turn to.”

She paused, looking up at him and having the decency to look a little sheepish.

He held her gaze for a long moment before turning back to the window.

“Something for the good of the people?” He looked back at the crumbling room, so significant of his upbringing. “You really believe Malfoy Manor is the place for something like that?”

Steely determination glinted in her eyes as she nodded. “It could be.”

He leaned towards her. “Then do it yourself and leave me the fuck alone.”

He turned and strode across the room, shouldering his way through the old doors and turning his back on all he’d known as a boy, his refuge, his shelter as a child.

“Draco, wait!” He could hear her squawking as she chased after him.

Of course, knowing the hallways as he did he knew he could lose her quickly and avoid another diatribe of nonsense and nobility spilling from her.

“Draco!”

Another sharp turn around a corner and he descended a short flight of stairs.

“Malfoy, please!” Merlin, this bitch would not give up.

He came to a branch in the corridors that he’d come to so rarely in his childhood, his pause before choosing a doorway to hide through was apparently all she needed to find her way back in range as a small hex hit the wall just to the left of his knees.

“Draco Malfoy, you stop where you are and _fucking listen to me._ ”

It was most likely the curse words of a different kind falling from her mouth that made him stop and turn in disbelief, rather than what he presumed was quite probably a harmless _Colloshoo_ or _Locomotor Mortis._

“Hermione Granger, the witch wonder, is _swearing_ at me.” He chuckled in mock-disbelief.

Clearly attempting to get her momentary temper flare up under control, she took a breath and gritted her teeth. “Will you please just take a moment to hear me out?”

“Here’s the thing Granger, I don’t want to.”

“Well here’s something else, _Malfoy_ , I don’t want to be here but I am.”

He raised his eyebrows - a Gryffindor admitting weakness? It wasn’t until she looked past him through the door he’d pushed ajar and paled slightly, that he understood.

They were _here_. Back where it had all happened, years ago. The floor of the drawing room just metres away, shards of the smashed chandelier downed by the house elf, still visible and glinting in the daylight.

He closed the door, gently but tightly, not quite ready to meet her eyes. “Granger, I-”

“No, it’s ok.”

“I wasn’t trying to lead you here or anything...”

“I didn’t think you were.”

“Right.” He nodded and turned back around.

She paused, carefully weighing up her next sentences. “I know this place is difficult for you, Malfoy. If I struggle here, I can only imagine how it must be for you.”

He held her gaze as he let her continue.

“But the past is gone now. We’ve all started to move on. Yes, some of us are still fighting to let go of it all, I think it’ll be a long time until many of us can, but we all have to start _trying_ at some point.”

His gaze dropped to the floor as she took a step forward.

“Draco, this was still your childhood home. It’s understandable if you want it wiped off the map. But it’s also ok if you don’t want to see it gone completely.”

She let the words linger between them for a long moment, before turning back the way they’d come.

She was two steps up the staircase before he summoned the courage to call back to her.

“A summer home?”

She stopped. In that moment he wasn’t sure if she would turn back to him or walk away, abandoning him as all others had.

As she made her way back to him with a smile, she nodded. “It could be.”

He swallowed, his throat thick with dust or emotion, he couldn’t quite tell. “We’d have to gut the place. And start from the ground up.”

“Absolutely. There are some elements that could remain though. The greenhouses would need a lot of work, but I think they’re something worth keeping.”

“My mother loved the greenhouses.”

“Then they should definitely stay.” She reached out to touch him lightly on the arm, uncertainty in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Draco...” She began.

“It’s ok.” He shook his head, not wanting her pity.

“You know, one of my favourite authors once wrote ‘One does not love a place the less for having suffered in it -’”

“‘Unless it has been all suffering, nothing but suffering.’” He finished for her. 

Her face was a picture of surprise that even she couldn’t have hidden in time.

“Yes, Granger, even I’ve read Jane Austen. _Persuasion_ , if I’m not mistaken?”

She nodded, just about recovering herself. “Yes, quite right.”

“I should say, I preferred _Emma_ overall, but then I’m still an Emily Brontë man at heart. Shall we?” He gestured to the stairs.

She kept up to his strides as they ascended to the main floor. “Ah, _Wuthering Heights_ , a true classic.” She agreed. 

He gave a wry a smile, a little pride blossoming in him at having shocked Hermione Granger.

“Although, I do have to ask: When did the great Draco Malfoy begin reading muggle literature?”

“Seven years with barely a soul to talk to opens up a myriad of opportunities in self-entertainment.”

“I’m sure.” She murmured.

“I wanted to make an effort, I suppose.” He confessed, surprising them both. He certainly hadn’t planned to have more than a just-business conversation with the brighter third of the Golden Trio of all people. “I wanted to at least attempt to understand them, understand their lifestyle. I’d grown up with very limited information on Muggles, after all.”

“And you were always such a delight in Muggle Studies, of course.”

He nodded, wanting to keep the conversation light but unable to keep the flash of green surrounding Professor Burbage from his mind.

“Well, Malfoy, if you’re ever interested in discussing the classics, I’d always be happy to.”

“Granger, something that I, too, have to ask: When did the great Hermione Granger begin asking Death Eaters out on a date?” He smirked, unable to resist poking the lion.

“Hardly a date! And besides, I’m only interested in coversing with _former_ Death Eaters. I hear all the current ones are somewhat unavailable nowadays.”

He grinned back at her as they arrived in the entrance hall, the front doors now stood open and members of the Auror squad milling around them.

“Well, I should get back to the office. Someone has to go about processing all this.” She waved to the stacks of crates ready for removal.

He nodded in understanding and started to turn away.

“Draco?” She called tentatively, as he turned back quicker than he would care to admit.

“Yes?”

“Might I leave my card with you? I really would be interested in talking over potential plans for this place if you were too.”

She handed the small slip of thick parchment to him. He held it gently in his hand, reading over the words _Hermione Granger, Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement_.

He raised an eyebrow, “Kept the maiden name for your career then?”

“Not just a maiden name. It’s my only name.” She raised her left hand and wiggled her fingers. “Still a Granger. Never married.”

“Fair play.”

“And if you do ever fancy a hearty discussion of some of the finer points of literature, both Muggle and Wizarding, I have some great recommendations. And I know a great little coffee shop just off Diagon Alley, past Eeylops...”

“Polgara’s? I live just above it at the moment, actually.”

“Oh gosh, it’s a wonder I haven’t bumped into you around there before. Her lattes are to die for.”

“I quite agree. Well, back to business for us both.”

“Indeed. It was... nice talking with you Malfoy.” She smiled hesitantly.

“You too, Granger.”

“I suppose I’ll wait to hear from you.”

“Yes. I promise I will give your offer proper consideration. Both of them.”

“Please do.”

And with a slight wave, she made her way through the crowd and out of the Manor. Draco smiled. He’d forgotten how good proper conversation could be.

“Malfoy, just finishing up now.” Potter informed as he sidled up to the blonde.

“Thanks.” Draco replied, slipping back into business.

Potter remained at his side for a few moments longer. “She has plans for this place.” He nodded after Granger.

“So I’ve heard.”

“She’s well meaning, even if it’s not what you want to hear right now.” Scar-head continued.

“Perhaps not. But it might just be what I need to hear right now.”

And with a firm shake of his old enemy’s hand, Draco Malfoy stepped out of his childhood home and into what was quite possibly a bright day.

**Author's Note:**

> A plot bunny I've been working on during the first day of a well-earned week's holiday from work. My aim is to ease back into writing, for which I've been absent from for quite some time, and begin to take up some of my part-finished works. I'd like this to be a promise but sadly it may not be.
> 
> Nevertheless, I would love to know your thoughts on this! How did you feel about the characterisation of all three? And the description of the Manor? My feeling is that with Lucius locked up, Narcissa and Draco both wanted to keep away from the place, so naturally it would begin to fall to ruin. Would you like to see this continued? I think it could work well as a one-shot or a continued series - please do let me know what you think!
> 
> Just the blossomings of friendship between Draco and Hermione, but I am so committed to Dramione as my OTP I couldn't resist!


End file.
